EDGE Edgar Allen Poe wrote about the Imp of the Perverse, that little fellow who whispers "Jump!" in your ear when you are standing at the edge of the Grand Canyon. Edge is the sharp part of the blade. It's the line that separates one thing from another. You can go over the edge and lose it completely. It's an advantage, as in having an edge. Or you can lose your edge. Let's hone our sharps and get edgy with the EDGE show at Arts Upstairs...

Speaking of over the edge, we start with Sparrow. I wasn't sure if his poem was true, so I did some research and translated it into Lithuanian:









He was right. It is better.


(Opinions expressed in this poem only reflect those of the camel.)


Emilio Batista is a CubarteNewYork painter, part of the new cultural cross-pollination program of The Arts Upstairs Articultural Extension of Phoenicia NY.

The rowboat in Rio Con Bote is definitely on the edge of the stream. I can smell the tropical breeze, perhaps even a hint of pineapple.



Dave Channon (you know, that Art Safari guy) made this collage drawing named Three Torches. The country house at the bottom looks kind of like Snyder's Tavern down below the reservoir.

If you get there before me, strike a match on the scratch pad and light one up.

Ask any vegetable and the chances are good that a vegetable will respond to you*

I respond to Margarete de Soleil's crisp and juicy pair of pictured peppers called Complimentary Shadows.



*Frank Zappa


How do I love this assemblage by Bronson Eden? Let me count the ways:

1. Best use of recycled lattice.

2. Excellent featherwork on the raptor.

3. Escheresque interlaced transfiguration from schematic through bas-relief and arriving at three dimensional cavorting Kama Sutra practitioners.

4. Tantalizing "ta-ta" scarf waving.

5. Little bitty skeletons.

6. The title is good, too: Edgy Wedge



Hili digs below the surface with this detailed diorama titled Excavation.

It's got metatarsals, mandibles, spinal clackers, and proves conclusively that the knee bone is not connected to the thigh bone.

If you have really good peepers you can read the inscriptions in Latin that probably indicate where Tut Uncommon's treasure is buried.


Lora Shelley has seen the lights, she's seen the party lights. They're red and blue and green.

in Illumination,The little girl's arms form a most unusual Hindu criss-cross, the cat might be carved from marble, and her face wears a wistful dreamlike expression.


David Jeffrey utilizes bilateral kaleidoscopic symmetry to bring out the Bodhisatva serenety of his Fern Rising.


It's quite hallucinatory. I think I see dragons, angels, schools of squid and little pixies, but it might have been something I ate.



Essie Kiel brings back fond mammaries in this iconic tribute to rock and roll called The Women Remain Faceless.

Ever notice how guitar curves look like a woman?



Keeping with the theme of women, here is a female Cardinal by Margaret Owen.


Isn't it about time the church had a female cardinal? And shouldn't she be as pretty as this bird?

Pedro Pilota, another CubarteNewYork artist, painted this allegorical chicken headed chimera with chartreuse human pudenda and lyres on the spine.

He calls it Con Su Bella Soledad which roughly translated means "With Your Beautiful Solitude."


What the?





Lynn Fliegel cleaves close to the edge theme with a diagonal statement titled Brown Edge.


In this world it's always ten after seven.


Kind of reminds me of the crummy state of our judicial system where the judge gives the perp five to ten and he gets out at ten to five.

Click on the circle in the square to see through the eye of her cyclops.




We stand at the river's edge and witness the watery wetness of Bob Ricketson's babbling bubbling burbling Rocks and Water.


This healthy stream is probably jam packed with benthic invertibrates.


Click on the photo and close your eyes... you can almost hear it. Then open your eyes and click the back arrow to go on with the Art Safari.


Jill Tannone combines collage and poetry in her Confession. You can read a poem about it if you click on the inside of the back cover.




Love Kills but what a way to go. The lolli-Pop calligraphy leaps off the canvas and busts outside the box.


I get a myocardial infarction just thinking about this Art Attack.

Way to go, Julian Caso.




Now it's time to say good-night,

Now the sun turns out its light,

Jim Knight, sleep tight.


This handsome eight petal lotus mandala radiates symboloid serene Bodhisativa conciousness.




See you at the next Arts Upstairs happening - the third PH3 extravaganza on Friday, April 6 starting at 7 PM. We'll have featured performer Paul McMahon and a dizzying array of unprecedented open mic talent.

Your Art Safari Guide, Dave Channon